Case Number 07111

THE GODFATHER: PART III

The Charge

All the power on earth can't change destiny.

Opening Statement

Vowing to take the family business legit, mafia godfather Michael Corleone
seeks redemption in a business deal with the Catholic Church, realizing too late
that the Vatican is as rife with corruption as organized crime.

Facts of the Case

Amassing incredible wealth from mob-owned casinos in Las Vegas and other
criminal enterprises, Don Corleone (Al Pacino, Scent of a Woman) resolves
to atone for his sins, including the murder of his brother Fredo. Michael gives
$100 million to the church. With the help of a corrupt cardinal, he buys a
controlling stake in Immobiliare -- an international venture-capital consortium
that is minority-owned by the Vatican. Vincent (Andy Garcia, The
Untouchables) lurks on the fringe of the Corleone family, convinced that
protecting their interests means clinging to the old ways of theft and
extortion, backed by violent death. Vincent is the bastard son of Michael's
brother Sonny, who was machine-gunned to death at a toll booth 30 years ago.
Michael's naïve daughter Mary (Sofia Coppola) falls hard for Vincent,
though he rebuffs her, knowing the Don would not approve. The family, including
Michael's conniving sister Connie (Talia Shire, Rocky) and his ex-wife
Kay (Diane Keaton, Annie Hall), travel to Rome, where Michael will
conclude his nefarious business and celebrate son Anthony's premiere as an opera
singer -- all during a particularly savage performance of Cavalleria
Rusticana.

The Corleone saga moves at a studied pace to an inevitably tragic
conclusion, as Michael confronts his fate and faces divine punishment beyond the
endurance of any man, no matter how evil.

The Evidence

More than 14 years after The Godfather: Part III set a box office
record for a Christmas Day premiere, and four years after the pricey DVD boxed
set of the Godfather trilogy hit store shelves, Paramount has finally
released Part II and Part III as individual DVD titles. The
milestone original film, which established director Francis Ford Coppola as a
formidable filmmaking talent, was issued as a separate DVD last year, shortly
before Marlon Brando died. For film lovers who could not or would not buy the
boxed set, the option of purchasing separate titles is long overdue. Now the
only incentive to buy the box is the supplemental disc of extra features missing
from these individual DVDs. For some consumers, this may not matter.

Critical consensus on Part III remains virtually unanimous: It is the
weakest of the Godfather films. In 1990 much of the vitriol, and it was
considerable, centered on the thespian limitations of then 18-year-old Sofia
Coppola, the director's daughter. Critics were not kind to her performance then,
and time has not altered anyone's judgment. She remains an amateur devoid of
presence or conviction. While this child of a cinematic dynasty would evolve
into an infrequent director and Oscar-winning screenwriter, anyone who saw her
Academy Award acceptance speech for Lost in Translation witnessed proof
positive that Sofia Coppola is a dull, inarticulate woman whose family name has
clearly done more for her film career than any innate talent she may
possess.

Part III had competition on its initial release. Martin Scorsese's
Goodfellas was an unexpected dynamite blast of energy and exuberance that
reinvented the crime film while besting the French New Wave directors at their
own stylistic game, albeit three decades later. The Godfather: Part III
is positively stately, even sedate, when contrasted with the snap-crackle-pow of
Scorsese's kinetic vision of organized crime. Comparisons between the two films
may have been unfair, but they were inevitable. Francis Ford Coppola had always
taken the Godfather mythos quite seriously, but by 1990 he had confused
solemnity with ominous foreboding. A generation had come of age since the
original Godfather films were released, and audiences were ready to
embrace the jittery, live-wire assault of Goodfellas. Never a director
known for his sense of humor, Coppola remained mired firmly in the past, in both
his material and his technique. In the end, as far as Oscars were concerned, it
didn't matter. Though it seems inscrutable today, Dances with Wolves
would win Best Picture for the year Part III and Goodfellas were
released.

Film lovers who keep up with cinema lore also know that Coppola signed on
for Part III because he needed the money to keep his Zoetrope Studios
alive after the 1988 commercial failure of Tucker: The Man and His Dream.
And that Coppola lost a fight with Paramount to name the film The Death of
Michael Corleone. And that Robert Duvall (Apocalypse Now) wanted too
much money to reprise his role as concigliere (mafia lawyer) Tom Hagen,
so Coppola killed off the character before Part III begins. And that
Pacino wanted so much cash up front that Coppola threatened to open Part
III with Michael Corleone's death, and Pacino ultimately backed down,
accepting a lesser fee. The same savvy viewers will also know that editing
continued right up to the drop-dead point for striking and distributing prints
to the premiere. So what does it all mean? All of these factors suggest that
Part III was a work in progress rushed into theaters to meet contractual
obligations.

None of this detracts from the fact that Part III is a good film,
albeit a flaw in the cinematic jewel that the Godfather trilogy
represents. There are only a handful of American films so poignant, produced so
gorgeously, directed so brilliantly, that any films that attempt to remake or
expand them will inevitably bring disappointment. The Godfather and its
1974 sequel are among the former -- Best Picture winners that paint the death of
the American dream in allegorical tableaux of greed, treachery, violence, and
fate. And, it comes as no surprise, Part III is among the latter. Given
the economic exigencies behind this final production, it is perhaps a small
miracle of modern cinema that Part III turned out so good. Coppola even
remembered to include oranges, the presence of which always signifies imminent
death in a Godfather film. Rich in detail and situation, the film falters
on a convoluted script that tries too hard to condemn the governing powers of
the Catholic Church. Left to its own devices, the church would ultimately
condemn itself, as contemporary revelations of sexual abuse and cover-ups have
proven. Give Coppola credit for penning an ambitious and controversial script
with Godfather novelist Mario Puzo.

The acting by the principals -- Pacino, Shire, Keaton, Garcia, and Eli
Wallach (The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly) as a wily, aging Don -- is
always competent and often inspired. Their interpretations suggest a logical
evolution of the characters from the earlier films (Wallach's Don is a new
character in Part III). Secondary players like lawyer George Hamilton
(Love at First Bite), newspaper reporter Bridget Fonda (A Simple
Plan), and crime lord Joe Mantegna (Searching for Bobby Fischer) come
off more as texture, as fleeting plot devices, than real human beings. Fonda is
in the film no more than 10 minutes during the first act, then vanishes. As Tom
Hagen's son, John Savage (The Deer Hunter) portrays a young priest in a
glorified cameo. He's around for three scenes and delivers a like number of
lines. Who knows what was left on the chaos of the cutting-room floor? But this
is less a criticism of the actors' work than it is of the overreaching and
complicated script.

Gordon Willis's cinematography is beyond reproach, captured in shades of
burnt sienna and golden, autumnal hues, complemented by Dean Tavoularis's
achingly beautiful production design. Coppola's direction is tight and
purposeful; his primary misstep was the sentimental casting of his daughter in a
key role originally intended for Winona Ryder (Girl, Interrupted), who
bowed out during preproduction, allegedly due to exhaustion. As an infant, Sofia
Coppola had appeared as Michael Corleone's nephew in the famous baptism scene.
Portraying a squalling babe in arms was precisely suited to her talents at the
time. Casting her in Part III was the director's supreme act of hubris,
one that audiences would not forgive. During the film's initial run, Sofia
Coppola's final scene was reportedly greeted at some screenings with cheers,
hoots, and a smattering of applause. This was not complimentary.

Part III climaxes with the signature montage of the trilogy: a
massacre of villains in novel and excruciatingly violent ways. Juxtaposed with
Pietro Mascagni's exquisite opera, this sequence was obviously intended to
finish the greatest trilogy in all American film on a high note -- and very
nearly succeeds, were it not for Sofia Coppola's inappropriate and utterly
unconvincing line readings at the vital climactic moment.

The DVD is virtually flawless. Video and audio are sterling. Coppola's
running director's commentary is insightful, if occasionally bitter, especially
when he recalls the harsh critical treatment of his daughter. This commentary
track appears to be identical to the audio recording that accompanied the disc
in the boxed set.

The Rebuttal Witnesses

Extras are limited to Coppola's commentary track. Given the wealth of
supplemental material that came in the boxed set, Paramount is just being cheap
to omit added-value content with these individual titles. Sure, a bare-bones
disc may help hold down the price, but the boxed set has been on the market so
long that any profit it was going to earn has long since been booked. Here's
hoping Coppola pocketed some of that cash.

Closing Statement

The Godfather: Part III is a fascinating but flawed conclusion to one
of the greatest achievements in American film. Michael Corleone's final moment
is deeply moving, even if it did not become the cinematic iconography that
Coppola undoubtedly intended.

The Verdict

Better than most movie lovers probably remember, the picture improves on
repeat viewings. See it again.